Flying the canal

Sunday, I went fishing. I met Dean and Dave at about 07:00 am and after scraping the ice off the windscreen we were on our way to a nearby canal. I had toyed with the idea of taking my SLR camera along but decided against it because I felt it would distract me from fishing, that was my first mistake. We had only been driving a matter of minutes and I cursed leaving the camera behind. The weather was perfect, frosty, still, and enough mist to give some superb photographs. We parked up at the canal and walked a few hundred metres, I was distracted by the mood of the morning, as was Dave. For the first hour neither of us fished with much enthusiasm, instead we were clicking away with our cameras trying to capture the scene. People on the boats were beginning to stir, the occasional bump from on board, the gentle rolling of the boats as people inside moved about and smoke spiraling from the small chimneys on the roofs. Dean was fishing away, oblivious to the surroundings, concentrating on the task in hand, fishing. "What sign?" He said.

Dave wandered up to the next lock, trying to wear out his new camera as I made a few casts of the fly, but it was cold on the hands and I was focused on the peace of it all. The world was waking slowly, the occasional dog walker strolled by, whispering quiet "Good mornings" and ducks quacked noisily in protest as the dogs herded them into the cold black water. We remained in this first spot for about half an hour and with no fish, slowly walked back towards the next lock down. The sky was getting brighter as the sun cut through the silhouetted trees with light sabres that cast bright shafts of gold through the mist. The constantly changing light display called for quick action with the camera and even with my little point and shoot compact some times I was not quick enough.

Poor Dean became our caddy, loaded up with our rods as Dave and I fired off shots while we walked.

We spent a further hour or so fishing this stretch of water before changing location completely by driving about ten miles in search of some fish that were a little more interested in playing along with us. At this second venue, I became a little fixated on a fish that I had seen rise by a submerged branch. For half an hour or so I tried to tempt this fish with my fly before finally he very gently, took it. It felt like a good sized fish, heavy and without panic, he played along with me until the net was raised ready to land it and then he was off. In a state of disappointment and depression, I pointed out to Dave where I hooked it, my second mistake, who then nonchalantly cast his fly to the indicated spot, hooking and landing the only fish of the day. A lovely zander, of about four pounds or so. Well done Dave, ya bugger! It was a great morning, I really enjoyed the company, thanks guys.